


to make a martyr of me

by kemia



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Interrogation, M/M, Physical Abuse, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemia/pseuds/kemia
Summary: in a last-ditch effort, mishima takes the fall for the phantom thieves.





	1. honor among thieves

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! i gave the mishiboys a little preview of this piece and they all seems pretty excited, so i had a lot of motivation to finish it.
> 
> this might(?) be multi-chapter! it depends on if i have the motivation to write any more of this concept!  
> anyway, there aren't really any late-game spoilers in this, but there may be in the future, so be warned!
> 
> thanks for reading! share the mishima love ♥

Every noise around him was enhanced by his lack of sight. Feet shuffled around him - there had to be at least two other people in the room, maybe three. He counted the clicks as the well-polished shoes he couldn’t discern reverberated with the pacing and shuffling. Papers were being adjusted and tapped against the desk.

Once he got used to the unfamiliarities, he rolled his neck slowly upward - it _hurt_. It ached profusely, and Yuuki wondered just how long he’d been asleep with his neck dangling at odds with his upward posture.

“Mishima Yuuki. Sixteen… You’re a student at Shujin. Everything always comes back to that school, doesn’t it?”

The voice was grumbly and low, and sure as hell intimidating, even at only half-volume. Yuuki tried to move his arms into his lap, only to feel the cold sting of metal digging into his wrists, pinning him to the back of the chair.

_Don’t panic. Don’t say more than you need to. Don’t let them get the better of you. You’ve been over this, Yuuki. You have a plan._

The detective said nothing else for a few seconds, and all that tipped Yuuki to his presence was his breathing, sharp inward and levelled outward.

“... And according to this testimonial, one of the primary victims from the Kamoshida case back in May.”

He turned his lips downward in disgust, choking back whatever words he didn’t have. There was simply so much _ire_ at the name. Pure, unadulterated hatred - but he choked it down. He didn’t need any outward display of emotion jeopardizing this for him.

“Finally… the creator of the Phantom Thieves website.”

It was some effort to keep his breathing normal, as not to seem suspicious in any way. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was suspicious that he _was_ keeping himself this calm; it wasn’t as if he’d ever been in a situation like this before.

He’d read so many different sites about covering his tracks and making certain that the activity couldn’t be traced back to his house. He’d tried so hard… _Just another thing to mess up, right?_

_… Come on, keep yourself together. You can do this._

“... Can you remove this - I mean, my blindfold - please?”

“Answer _our_ questions first.”

Yuuki didn’t say anything else, holding his tongue behind his teeth to keep himself silent. He knew he had rights, and that he was within them to say something, but given how vehement the police were towards the Phantom Thieves, there was no reason for him to believe they were going to act entirely within the law, either. This was _personal_ to them.

“We’ve been tracking your website for some time. We noticed a correlation between posts made by civilians and an increase in criminals turning themselves in, ranging in severity. The dates all line up, too.”

The sensation of the man moving closer to him made Yuuki instinctively flinch back, head turned to the side. Yes, it was an instinct, nothing else, but he still managed to curse himself in so little words.

“So we have reason to believe you’re colluding with the Phantom Thieves themselves, and that you know their identities.”

“What? No, I don’t, I swear! I just run the site for fans!”

“And it’s just a coincidence that you’ve been tied into the Phantom Thieves case from the very beginning?"

Yuuki’s lips began to tremble of their own will ( _just another bit of residual fear he can’t ever shake_ ), and he swallowed dryly. Desperately, his eyes tried to peer through the blindfold for some kind of comfort, but its opaqueness is undeniable.

 _It might be for the best_ , he decided, _now you can see whatever you want to see. It might calm you down._

He envisioned… Leblanc. He could almost smell the overwhelming waft of freshly brewed coffee, and he could almost see the gentle smile on Akira’s face as he carefully poured it into a worn, white mug -

“Tell us the truth. If you don’t, you’ll be considered an accomplice to murder.”

Those words run a knife right through his fantasy of how simple things were just a few months ago. _Accomplice to murder. Accomplice to murder._

His mind didn’t know where to begin - first, it was beyond him that they _actually_ thought that the Phantom Thieves would murder _anyone_ . He was blind to the circumstances, and the world of stealing hearts was only an enigma he dreamed about when he fell asleep at his desk. Still, if he knew anything at all, it was that Akira would never hurt anyone. _That_ was impossible.

Then, there was the fact that they had kidnapped him - a normally unsuspecting teenager - presumably while he was _sleeping_ … Had he been sleeping? He hoped so; if he had been awake, then there were some obvious gaps in his memory.

If it meant capturing the Phantom Thieves, they really would go to any end.

“I really don’t know, I - I’m just a fan, okay? Please, I only do this in my spare time as a hobby!”

There was silence. No one else in the room made any noise, so Yuuki was able to hear a minute, mechanical sound - it sounded like the movement of a camera lens.

“You realize this is your only chance, right?”

A different male voice broke from the silence, almost more menacing than the last.

“If you don’t give us their identities, and we find out that you were connected to them in any way - phone calls, texts, any sort of correspondence - you’ll be held accountable. And we _won’t_ be lenient.”

Yuuki felt his heart in his throat - the adrenaline began to work up a sweat, he could feel it spreading thin and cold across his body. His thoughts raced toward the ticking time bomb of evidence that sat on his phone … There probably wasn’t anything that could stop the police from searching it.

_They want a confession. They need some sort of confession - they just need to get their hands on somebody who will take the fall and make them look like heroes. So -_

_I need this to work. They just need someone._

“... Okay. I'm - I’m willing to confess, but _only_ if you take the blindfold off for me. Please.”

There was some hesitation with another lull in sound before there were steps, growing closer with meticulous thought behind them. He felt starchy clothing caressing both sides of his face for a moment, and finally, the fabric over his eyes fell away. Despite how dull the light was, he had to blink multiple times to grow accustomed to the sudden change.

There were more people than he’d once thought. Three burly, nearly identical men in black suits stood above him, while two policemen in their regular uniform stood further away by the door. There were no windows and only a single light bulb illuminated the entire room, giving an eerie vibe that only struck Yuuki with further anxiety. He couldn’t match the voice to the person when they all stood over him in silence, but it was clear they were waiting for him to speak, and would not be prompting him any time soon.

Aiming his gaze downward toward his lap, Yuuki took a long, exaggerated breath to make himself seem anguished ( _which he was, no doubt, but there needed to be more above the surface_ ).

_Akira… Don’t worry, I’m going to give you more time._

“I… I'm a Phantom Thief.”

“You’re lying.  
  
“I’m not! I'm-”

_It’s okay. You’re doing this for him. You’re doing this for Japan._

He took a shuddered breath, and looked up at the three detectives with frantic eyes.

“I created the Phantom Thieves website, pretending to be a fan so I could get intel. I am a Phantom Thief! If you don’t believe me, you can announce it to the world that I came clean and they’ll - they’ll definitely do the same!”

He felt himself on the verge of tears, unable to know if the dramatics were getting to him or if it was a genuine feeling of sadness.

“There’s… honor among Thieves…”

The three men shared long glances with each other, expressions unreadable. Yuuki panted from the energy his exclamation took, rattling his handcuffs just a little bit as he tried to lean his head down into his chest.

Finally, the man in the middle of them brought his ultimatum, identifying himself as the one who had spoken to Yuuki first.

“Take him.”

Yuuki’s eyes went wide as the other two came forward and held back his arms just long enough to unshackle the handcuffs from the chair and then click them back into place. He didn’t bother to struggle against them - he knew what he was doing. He had rehearsed this scenario hundreds of times alone in his bedroom, never letting anyone know.

A guard moved to the side and opened the door, ushering the detectives through. He was escorted at a dizzying pace, and the hallway became his new scenery as the metal slammed at his back, now bound and helpless to be anything but a hopeful decoy.

_Akira..._

_This is all I can do for you now, so…_

**_Show them what it truly means to be a Phantom Thief._**


	2. know your enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! ♥ i have a lot of free time and i was really motivated, so i churned out another part! so i guess it is gonna be multi-chapter after all (i estimated about six chapters; possibly more)! mishima's actually not present in this chapter, but he will be in the next one.
> 
> be warned, from this chapter onward there will be late-game spoilers! please read at your own risk!

A gathering of wide eyes and ears locked onto the tiny, ragged television.

“... confessed yesterday while in police custody. His identity has not yet been released, but reportedly, he is a high-school student. We will provide more information on the Phantom Thieves case as it becomes available. In other news …”

A firm kick against the bottom of the hideout table drowned out the anchorwoman and her monotonous delivery of the dailies.

“What the shit?!”

“Calm down, Ryuji,” Makoto scolded, just barely saving a can from tipping over in the impact zone. “There’s got to be an explanation. Ake-”

“I’ll be honest,” the silky, sickeningly sweet voice interjected from the other side of the room, “I don’t have one to give. This ‘Phantom Thief’… it’s either a bluff, albeit a very poor one, or they’ve mistakenly labelled someone innocent. I certainly don’t have anything to do with it.”

Everyone shifted in an uncomfortable silence, unsure of what to do or say in response to the revelation that they had no idea. It was glaringly obvious to them all that the only ways to correct the wrong was turn themselves in or prove that none of them were in custody, but the risk remained of an unaffiliated civilian being treated cruelly or even tried as a Phantom Thief without even a single glance at the truth.

It was a double-edged sword, no matter how delicately it was said, and it showed in the visible frustration of every member.

Haru flickered her eyes nervously around the room, catching a glimpse at everyone before hesitantly meeting eyes with Akechi.

“Can they just accept a confession like that? What kind of evidence do they have against that person if it’s not one of us?”

“Whoever they are, they must have been a very convincing candidate for one reason or another.”

Brows furrowed uncharacteristically, Akechi pushed his back off of the bookcase he was propped against. His gloved hand rose and covered his mouth, blocking the lower half of his face. The bewilderment and concentration splayed on the upper half could likely paralyze a person with intent alone.

“This puts quite a wrench in our plans … Well, actually, not quite. Actually, it could work quite well if the attention of the police is elsewhere. It may limit further investigation if they believe a Phantom Thief is already in custody, giving us more time to act, but we should keep to our established end date, just to be safe. It may put Sae-san further off-guard, in the very least, which is to our benefit.”

All of that raw intent trailed toward Akira, who was still focused intently on the screen, unblinking. What rested behind his lenses was a vacant space, but Akechi was certain that if he could see the cogs of that boy’s mind, he would be smoking from his ears.

Morgana was the next to pine for Akira’s input, springing onto the television stand and placing a paw on the power button, sparking the screen into darkness and the room into quiet.

“Hey, Leader. Leader!”

After a few blinks, Akira arose from his daze, looking from the screen toward the others behind him as if he’d been in a reverie rather than a mental puzzle.

“Sorry, can we discuss this later?”

“Dude, seriously? We need to go into the palace, don’t we?! We’ve gotta deal with this!” Ryuji’s voice, imposing as ever, cracked with concern and _fear_ \- the mortal enemy of a rebellious heart.

Then, with the calmest of demeanor,

“It’s Mishima-kun.”

Yusuke shifted forward in his chair, both hands pressed hard into his thighs as if he’d been intently watching paint dry. “How can you be so sure?”

“He’s the only one outside of the Phantom Thieves who’s ever directly communicated with me - us - regarding the movements of Phantom Thieves.”

They couldn’t help but agree with that conclusion - the silence, opposite of commonplace for the group of rogues, continued as they all were mulling over any and all other possibilities. Futaba, face crunched up in worry and focus, began tabbing through her phone at a rapid pace, stopping after only a few seconds with a frown that sunk deeper.

“There hasn’t been any admin activity on the Phan-Site for almost two days. That’s _way_ too weird for him, he basically _lives_ on there, even after everyone started flooding it with hate.”

“That’s a reasonable conclusion,” Akechi chimed in, slowly approaching Akira, “everything considered. It’s likely that your website has been under surveillance. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t know much about that, but it may have been traced to his home, in which case… If he’s confessed on your behalf, there’s not much I can do to prove he _isn’t_ a Phantom Thief without putting the rest of you in immediate jeopardy. The police - Sae-san, as well - are looking for any conclusion to this public unrest, even if it means false imprisonment, or worse.”

“We can’t just leave him there, though! Who knows what they’ll do to him?” Ann shouted in reply, flinging her arms to her sides in a heated display. “Why would he go and do something like that, anyway? He didn’t do anything!”

“... Do you guys mind if we regroup later?”

Everyone, Akechi aside, looked toward Akira’s collected tone with astonishment, with only Makoto at the ready to respond verbally to her shock.

“Leader, is that alright? We only have a few days to change my sister’s heart. Seriously, shouldn’t we-”

“Ah, Niijima-san, I believe he has a point here. If he requires time to think out a solution, then we should allow him that reprieve.” Though the detective’s words were aimed toward the collective, Akechi’s full attention was aimed toward solely Akira.

“I’m really quite impressed that you were able to deduce an identity so quickly. Always full of surprises. I’m sure you’ll come up with the best course of action.” The smile that spread across his lips was practically paper-thin. Akira only nodded in response, once again lost in his own thoughts.

Akechi motioned toward the rest of the Thieves, and they all reluctantly, slowly, began to rise from their seats, shuffling out of the room. Ryuji patted Akira on the shoulder as he passed, offering a “good luck, Leader” before trailing the rest down the stairs.

Only Morgana remained.

“You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“I’m just thinking. Why don’t you go with them? They’ll probably feed you.”

Morgana swished his tail in defiance - or, perhaps, acknowledgement of his hunger. “You really think food’s on my mind at a time like _this?”_

“Absolutely.”  Dragging his expression out of its black hole, Akira offered half of a smile, to no consolation. “Don’t worry. I just need some time to consider our options. We’ll meet back up later, promise.”

This seemed to be enough to sate the curiosity of the cat, who nodded and, after taking a pause, padded down the stairs.

“Oh, wait, Morgana?”

Almost expectantly, his head poked up from the top of the stairs.

“Can you get Futaba to bring me her laptop?”

 

* * *

_"Hey, Kurusu-kun? Take this.”_

_Across the diner table, Mishima slid a small, white slip of paper, folded in half._

_Opening it, Akira found a string of random numbers - about twenty random numbers._

_“What is this?”_

_“If anything happens, that’s the administration password to the website. There’s some stuff that I hide inside the base code that only the administrator can see. It might end up being important.”_

_Akira couldn’t fathom where this was coming from, but before he had the chance to ask, Yuuki cut him off with the explanation._

_"If I’ve learned anything from this, it’s that you should know your enemies better than your allies. I’m just trying to be prepared for anything, y’know?”_

_Mishima cracked half of a smile, pressing a finger to his lips._

_“Come on, just keep it safe. You never know when you’ll need it.”_

* * *

 

His fingers scrolled as fast as they could manage, eyes darting until he eventually was able to access the HTML hub.

Everything looked like a mess of technical jargon that he couldn’t understand - Akira searched through every inch of it, looking for something that made sense to him -

A single link stood out in a different color from the others, hidden in brackets marked by an exclamation point. It was a link he’d never seen posted anywhere on the Phan-Site, which he knew pretty damn well from his own experience - a link to a file hosting site. He copied and dragged the link, pulling it into a window of its own.

There was a single file folder contained - it simply read “Documents”, with no pomp and circumstance. His mouse hovered over the folder for a brief second, as if the action would set off a bomb, before he clicked.

There was an instant swarm of files. They were filled to the brim with pictures of various men, listing their names, their ages -

Their occupations - which were all positions in law enforcement.

Their locations - which were all within the vicinity of Shibuya.

Akira, at least, could finally make sense of the other’s cryptic words - _know your enemies better than your allies_ \- but he still couldn’t understand this level of preparation. _How could Yuuki have known this scenario might occur? Was he so ready for it and accepting that he did all of this hidden research just in case?_

_… Did he plan to make a false confession all along?_

The weight of the realization sat firmly and terribly on Akira’s shoulders. His hands ran through his tangled mess of hair, eyes fixated on the sea of information Yuuki had mined. He adjusted after an exaggerated breath and settled his hand back on the mouse, returning to the mass of code.

Beneath the link, there was a note he’d originally missed. He leaned in close to make sense of the small text.

> <!-- _Hey, Akira-kun. You guys tried to change my heart once, right? Can’t you look into my heart again?_   -->

* * *

“This action was not approved, you know. I thought this was discussed prior.”

The phone in Akechi’s hand was practically crunching under the heavy force of his fingers, curled up in resistance to the anger he was trying to contain. He kicked the briefcase at his feet, barely listening to the chirping on the other end of the phone.

“On the nineteenth of November, the Phantom Thieves will be within our grasp. He’s _not_ one of them. He’s _nothing_ but a _pity_ of an accomplice. If anything, you can keep him there - he’s just another fly to swat. Keep him _quiet._ Understand?”

With only a few further chirps on the other end, of which the content didn’t interest Akechi so long as it was compliance, he pocketed his phone and carried his scheme along with him into the endless throng of Shibuya.


	3. nothing new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! a mishima-centric chapter. writing this whole chapter was actually awful, i felt awful the entire time. but here we are.
> 
> i kind of just realized how short these chapters are, but as i fleshed out the concept chapter by chapter, each section isn't particularly long unless i drag it out unnecessarily, which isn't fun to read.
> 
> in this chapter, there are late-game spoilers, as well as pretty graphic physical abuse, so please read with caution. thank you very much for reading my stuff and leaving comments, it makes me so happy. ♥

To Yuuki, this wasn’t anything he hadn’t experienced before.

He could feel the cold of the wall against his back seeping through his shirt - the same shirt he’d worn for days. His arms, bound behind him in the same position for hours upon hours, ached in the worst possible places where he couldn’t avoid the pain no matter how he shifted. His legs felt like they weren’t touching the ground, even as he stared at them, firmly planted. Paint splatters of tender and swollen skin littered his visible body, while he couldn’t even fathom what it looked like under his clothes.

Yes, they were making an ugly canvas of him, but it wasn’t anything new at all.

The sight he’d been intent on having not so long ago now worked against him; all he wanted now was the blanket of nothingness so that he wouldn’t see the hits coming, and so that he could imagine himself someplace else when they were done trying to beat information out of his rattled brain.

It was information that wasn’t his to give, and Yuuki could take a punch. What he couldn’t take was the thought of betraying everyone to save his own ass. It would ruin the point of everything, anyhow.

He eyed a crack in the floor like it might split in two if he simply focused all of his energy there. His sight blurred as his concentration and consciousness melded into a mess of wondering if it was day or night, knowing it was impossible for him to know the answer. The single light in the room was too much illumination for a restful sleep, but not nearly enough to keep him alert, and that was enough to drive Yuuki mentally up a wall.

Some sick curiosity within himself longed to see what he looked like now and longed to know how appalled he’d be at his own apathetic outlook on it. He imagined his own hair, matted and greasy, and he imagined the streaks of blood, dried into brownish blotches around his mouth.

_It’s just pain. If you don’t think about it, it’s not even there. You can forget about it, until the rinse and repeat, then you just keep forgetting until you forget what ‘pain’ even means._

_At least if this is happening to someone, it’s happening to somebody who stopped being bothered a long time ago._

_At least it’s not them. At least it’s not him._

The deafening silence of the room rang dully in his ears. He started internally counting seconds and minutes offbeat, just to keep himself occupied in his mind-numbing solitude.

As he neared seven-hundred seconds, the door barring him from the rest of the world swung open. A detective ( _not the first one to rub him into the dirt, certainly not the last_ ) in a familiar, pitch-black suit sauntered into the cell, the clicking of his shoes against the concrete allowing Yuuki to reminisce on when this was more of an intimidating soirée and less of a full-on torture party.

The man that loomed over Yuuki had nothing to say when he stopped in front of him, neither male so much as flinching when the metal clashed and closed behind them, wrapping them both once again in the unending quiet and ominous light. They met eyes - or, in the very least, the teen had his eyes bored into, while they stared, glassy and uncaring, into the jarring angles of cement in the walls.

With one quick swipe, Mishima’s hair was yanked in an iron grip with enough strength to nearly lift his chair from the ground. The urge swam through his nerves to reach up toward the pain and rip it away, but his arms were useless, and him, in turn. His eyes squeezed together, teeth gritting to focus the stress somewhere else in his body, but it was all in vain - he was pulled forward fast, then pushed backward even faster, only avoiding slamming his skull against the bricks with a split second twist of his neck.

Then, like he was just a mass of air, he was tipped sideways, made to flop around on his side like a fish washed up on the shore. He just laid there, even though he knew showing some inkling of terror would be much more satisfying for the one assailing him.

He may have spent the majority of his life as a pure zero, but Yuuki had learned dignity.

“News for you,” the detective muttered, tone completely unperturbed despite the circumstances.

_Yeah, like the police can even remember what honor is like._

He knelt down low, pulling Yuuki’s head from its pitiful position in the dust so that they forcibly met glares. The urge to spit fought with the habitual fear lining his stomach, but Yuuki wasn’t sure he could muster the energy for that much defiance.

“Found your friends. Doesn’t look like keeping your mouth shut ended up helping them at all, did it? They’ll probably all look just like you in a matter of days.”  
  
He spent a few more seconds, waiting for Yuuki for feign any sort of response, but there was nothing. Yuuki’s lips didn’t move. His eyes stared unblinking, which only seemed to further  piss off the other.

The man scoffed, pushing up on his knee to stand again. He reared back and threw a kick directly below Yuuki’s ribs, launching him across the floor. His breath was gone long enough for the panic to inadvertently slide into his expression before he began wheezing and silently yearning for his lungs to work with him.

“Even if you aren’t one of those criminals, you can still count on being charged as an accessory. Don't think you can easily get away with lying to us, either.” His fingers carefully adjust his gloves one at a time, looking down upon the teen with the sort of scorn that only an adult could truly envisage.

“But even if Akechi thinks he has the Phantom Thieves cornered, I don’t care. He’s so damn cocky, it makes me sick. You and I? We’ll keep having our chat until you tell me what I want to know. You’re just a kid - I know for a fact that you can’t hold out forever.”

_Akechi._

He shrugged, nonchalantly rolling his neck and shoulders as if he were lounging in a recliner on a Sunday afternoon.

“If his ambush is successful, who cares? Then we’ll have all of the Phantom Thieves and an accomplice of theirs. It’s a win for us, whether or not he’s bluffing.”

_An ambush._

_Akechi’s going to ambush them._

Those words echoed through his head over and over- if the thought kept repeating, it might engrave itself in the crevices of his mind. His eyes fluttered closed again.

_Akira, watch out for Akechi. Watch out for Akechi. Please._

It was his new magnum opus - the first thing he’d think about after waking up, the first thing he’d think about before falling asleep. His own identity, his own emotions - those were all needless things, so long as those words were carved into him. That thought had to subconsciously reach Akira - everything else was just a scrap in the wind.

While his lids protected him from the view, he felt another kick connect with his stomach. Air betrayed him yet again, and a terrible gurgling noise rose from his throat as his mouth wrenched itself open. If anything were prevalent in its contents, he might have vomited from the shock, but nothing came as he minimally writhed and gagged, tears welling up and blurring his sight.

“I don’t get you, kid. Your beloved Phantom Thieves aren’t going to come save you, but you’re still going to defend them? It’s so pathetic, I can’t even bear to look at you.”

Almost as if he were trying to be merciful, he pulled the wretched vision of a regular student from the ground, placing the chair upright in its former position. Yuuki’s weight shifted and he wobbled, still trying to make sure his body was retaining its proper contents. His neck fell backward, his head only barely held up by the solid surface behind it.  
  
“... They did more for me than you ever did.”

It was a croak from his throat, voice cracking so harshly some of his words were nearly unintelligible.

It was still enough to serve as provocation.

Rough fingers of one hand wrapped around Yuuki's throat with little to no effort, pinning him back so hard that the chair threatened to slip from under him. Metal of a wedding ring dug into the soft flesh, creating a bright pink tear. The stress of being with and without oxygen in such a short timeframe was taking a toll on Yuuki’s lungs, and he could feel them lighting a fire inside of his chest that made him want to claw it open.

“ _We_ will continue our chat later. Use the time I’m giving you to learn your place.”

Just when Yuuki thought his neck might snap from the pressure, just when he felt himself growing light, the grip eased and walked away from him, a careful, resounding step at a time.

His body was so tired of trying to force the air surrounding him back within, and so all he managed was small gulps and pants, vision growing blotchy with the dull, off-white light scattering the world in different directions.

By the time he eased fully back into awareness, he was alone with his broken canvas of a body again. Silence reigned, and the ringing in Yuuki’s ears returned with more force.

Even through the stinging, the aching, the burning, the throbbing -

Even through all that plagued him, he kept thinking the same thought.

_Watch out for Akechi. He’s planning an ambush. Watch out for him._

Even while his brain’s better half began forcing him into unconsciousness to cope with its agony, its other side lulled him gently into darkness - not by counting the seconds or the minutes or the hours, but by repeating that same warning over and over.

_Watch out for Akechi. Watch out for Akechi. Watch out for... Watch out for..._


	4. only you can understand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! i know i update this fic pretty frequently, but i have an excessive amount of free time while i wait for college to start again, and this definitely helps time pass.
> 
> finally, featuring shadow mishima! i love writing shadow mishima, and i especially love interactions between him and joker. thanks again for reading and leaving me wonderful comments! y'all are wonderful as usual! ♥

Against the macabre backdrop of the red and black distortion, Joker blended perfectly - it was as if it was where he belonged.

What Akira had needed most for this mission into Mementos was distance from the others - rather, what he’d needed most was distance from Akechi. Akechi was astute and able to grasp things from the inner workings of his mind before he was even able, sometimes, and that was perhaps the most frightening aspect of him. If Akira hadn’t dismissed everyone - including Morgana - when he had, it was only a matter of time before the ties weaved and tangled around his own hands.

So, for once, it was safest for him to take on the peril of the collective unconscious as a lone man.

He hoped and frantically wished for one distortion in particular to appear, one that he was familiar with. Despite whatever danger lurked as he continued to descend floor by floor, he was willing to search each and every corner, each and every twist of steel rail, to encounter a current that would lead him in the right direction.

Still, there was no guarantee that such a Shadow could be found on his own; those desires of the past had been thankfully wiped out strictly by sheer power of will, and such distortion had shattered like someone had taken a hammer to a glass window, not to be revisited. The only thing guiding him was desperation, but for a teen as down on his luck as he was, that was plenty motivation.

As if calling out to him, from a far corner in the depths of Kaitul, a twisted beacon shone through a jungle of tracks, snaking around endlessly like overgrown vines of ivy. Joker heaved a sigh of relief, gloved hand ghosting over the ghastly amalgamation of colors as if it were the some Treasure itself.

_Amazing that something that was so disgusting before seems so wonderful right now._

He very nearly leaped into the warped space ( _or such was his cognition, for it was fairly innate that Joker look cool no matter how worried he was_ ), making out a figure in the distance with legs crossed and back facing the thief. He coolly took a few steps forward, careful and steady with every step -

\- which was just the trigger to snap the Shadow from its daze. Its head whipped around at a breakneck pace, gold eyes iridescent and bright and - wide - and panicked - and finally, upon recognition, reassured.

“He’s been expecting you,” the Shadow greeted, assessing Joker for all he was worth, “so I guess I have, too. Hey, Phantom Thief.”

“Mishima-kun.”

He had all the options in the world - he could berate Yuuki for acting without consulting anyone about what he planned to do, or he could apologize for letting this happen to him in the first place - but unfortunately, he had none of the time. He gave the Shadow enough leeway to bring itself to its feet before instantly speaking out again, letting his self-control slip in small, pliable ways.

“Is he okay?”

“What kind of question is that? If I were dead, I wouldn’t be here - I wouldn’t say I’m in one piece, though.” In spite of the snide comment, Yuuki's Shadow let a small smile touch its lips, though there was something about the expression that remained sinister … It was probably something inherent to its nature. “I’m kind of happy you cared that much, though. I had a stupid amount of faith that you’d figure everything out, but I was also was getting scared you weren’t going to come for me.”

Joker tilted his head, letting that statement slosh around in his brain. He had questions - a fury of questions, really, but he knew it was best to head for ones that would get him straightforward answers.

“Did you plan all of this?”

“Every bit of it. From the very beginning, I was gonna turn myself in if things got dicey. I… I knew if I told you straight up, though, you’d never let me do it... So, I just started laying down clues in a way I knew only you would get in case it ever happened - like a safety net.”

The Shadow traipsed forward until their chests were inches apart, then gently cupped the Thief’s cheek with its palm. No matter what kind of awful energy it gave off, the smile glued to its face was serene - it was haunting, but calming in the same breath. Joker didn’t think to move a muscle, eyes moving behind his mask toward the strangely cold sensation, then back down to the other’s gaze.

“You’re the only one who could ever possibly understand how I think.”

Despite their close vicinity, Joker continued talking as if they were miles away, swallowing any potential, less-than-logical responses.

“How did you figure out contacting me like this?”

Its hand slumped away from Akira’s face, lining his jaw on its descent and stepping back. “The first time you came to me, you spoke to the waking me like you’d read my mind. It… to be honest, it freaked me the hell out, but because of that I knew that you could really see inside people’s hearts. If I took that information to heart and let it fuel me, I figured my thoughts could reach you.”  
  
The Shadow grunted a laugh, mouth and eyes now twisting up into a sneer.

“I wonder how the police would feel if they knew they were outsmarted by a kid who’s afraid of his own reflection. I almost wish I could be more in-your-face about it.”

There was a unique dynamic to the Shadow’s appearance that Joker found endlessly curious; it switched between a hideously visceral detestation and soft, anxious eyes. It was like witnessing two people occupy one vessel, and he wanted to know what sorts of thoughts lay under the physical surface of Yuuki’s heart.

For as much as he wanted to know, however, there were very specific details that were more crucial now. If Yuuki’s Shadow honestly believed that he was the only one who would understand how Yuuki worked, then it was something that, hopefully, he would be trusted with in the future.

“I shouldn’t be stuck on this. If you’re here from the message, you saw all those profiles, right?”

Joker nodded; he had meticulously committed to memory every face and every name, from the curves of their mouths, all the way down to the irony of the hopeful kanji.

“Good. I got them to show me their faces. There were three of them - Teshima Hiromitsu, Hayakawa Eisuke, and Yoshinaga Kousuke.” The Shadow crossed its arms, lowering its head to look up at Joker in something like a plea ( _or maybe a dare_ ).

“Just change their hearts, and everything’ll be fine. Got it?”

Joker - _Akira_ \- was astonished at the exact lengths Yuuki had been willing to go for such a result. With the way his subconscious delivered the information, Akira might have been fooled into thinking that Yuuki wanted this to happen all along. _None_ of this plan was guaranteed its success, and the chances of Yuuki having much of a future if such a stunt failed were slim to none, when all he’d wanted to do was be of use to the world.

It felt like a knife twisting in Akira’s stomach, for some reason. Joker, however, would retain his stoicism, as a permanent after-effect of the occupation.

“Okay, but I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“You didn’t have to confess. None of us would ever have expected you to put yourself at risk like that. Why did you?”

This made the Shadow explore a variety of its own masks, unable to find the one that fit the answer it wished to give.

“Just buying you a little bit of time or ease was enough of a reason. Without you guys, I wouldn’t have a purpose and I never would’ve learned what I was even worth. The least I could do for you was this. When you look at it my way, I’m even being selfish just asking you to help me escape.”

“Mishima-kun, don’t think that.”

“I’ll feel indebted in whatever way I want, alright?”

“How bad have they hurt you?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

Even as Yuuki’s Shadow retracted with its words, it only kept taking tiny movements closer again, its golden eyes not hiding any sort of malice like he might expect. Apprehension was all that stuck within them. Its hand grasped onto the collar of Joker’s coat, trying to drag him closer.

“I’m scared as hell. You know what’s scarier to me, though? The thought of never seeing you again because I handed you over. I’ve watched too many awful things happen in my life that were my fault - things that could have been avoided if I had the balls. So just -”

The Shadow froze, aiming its attention toward the ground. It seemed so uncharacteristically lost, like it didn’t understand its own existence for a matter of seconds.

“The ambush.”

Its attention urgently jerked back toward Joker, pulling on the leather fabric that was clutched within its fingers.

“Damn, Akechi! He’s going to ambush you - the police are going to ambush you, you absolutely _can’t_ fall for it, alright? Alright?!”

Right now, this piece of Yuuki that was only a figment, merely a projection of his true feelings, seemed more human to him than anything else. It was as if his friend was actually within arm’s reach, and something deeply yearning within Joker - _Akira_ \- wanted to reach out and hug the figure ranting at him.

So he did - he took the Shadow into an embrace, as if that might sate whatever fear Yuuki was feeling in his sleep. It almost struggled, almost bit back, but after a second of realization it only stood there, unblinking and with nothing else to say.

“I already know. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. Just like that determination you have, I’m going to see this mission through and I believe that we’re all going to be fine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean to me?”

“I’m going to let them catch me.”

“That’s - that’s total bullshit!”

It shoved itself against Joker’s arms, breaking out and staggering backward with the first true look of anger it’d been able to find.

“Then what was the point of any of this? What was the point of anything if I’m just going to lose you anyway?!”

That anger was the only thing that seemed to be keeping the Shadow from shedding tears. It seemed to only want to retreat, but this was Yuuki’s innermost thoughts - there was nowhere for it to run, and Joker only felt twangs of pity stinging at his throat.

“You had faith that I would come save you. I need to ask you to have faith in me with this, too. Have faith in _all_ of us, _Yuuki._ ”

The given name seemed to slap the Shadow across the face, hovering in the air like a heavy fog. The teen he knew so well fought through in the shameful face the Shadow made, knowing full well that it was barking without practicing its own philosophy. That brought it back down, and its face relaxed.

“We’re all going to make a difference, and I’m going to meet you on the outside, without a doubt. So just worry about your freedom right now.” Joker offered half of a smile, extending a red-clad fist as a casual promise.

Hesitance still plagued the Shadow as it stared down the offer, but with a shaking hand, it pressed its knuckles against the other’s.

“I’ll be really pissed off if you’re lying to me.”

“You can punch me later if I’m lying.”  
  
“You know I’ll never be able to do that.”

“Then I’ll think of some other punishment.”

One last glance was enough for them to share their equal convictions.

“Good luck then, _Akira."_

With a tone of finality, the Shadow began to tentatively withdraw, Yuuki clearly not wanting to leave the presence of his closest friend but eventually fading back into oblivion.

Akira, recalibrating his mind in the new-found solitude, adjusted his gloves and gazed onward where the enigma of Yuuki had been. The moment felt exaggerated, but he finally swivelled on his heel, stuffing his hands into his pockets in a familiar way and departing the space.

The names of his new targets ran through his head over and over to conceal his own fears from himself; there were hearts to be stolen and a manager to be rescued. There would be time for dwelling someday, he definitely believed in that, but it couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- be now.


	5. blindly believing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey again y'all! after updating like every day for a short stretch, i needed to take some time to deal with college-related stuff, but i finally focused enough to get down another part.
> 
> i'll probably be able to get the next chapter out within a few days (maybe less), since i'm pretty motivated for that part in particular! thanks as always for your comments, this has been such a joy to write because y'all are so kind! ♥

Everything that happened from the moment Yuuki was roused from sleep was like detachment from reality.

No sooner than his eyes had fluttered halfway open was Yuuki blind again, forced to adjust to a light brighter than he’d seen in days ( _maybe even a week; after a while, keeping track of time became impossible_ ). The backs of his eyelids burned a bright orange when he shut them, taking long, elaborate blinks.

His brain completely caught up after a few minutes, when his agonizingly sore and tattered self reminded him. _You’re walking. You can move your arms. It hurts like hell._

The two men escorting him were in regular police uniforms; the detectives he had become _disgustingly familiar_ with were nowhere in sight, and the hands that held him afloat were so much gentler with him. Even with a tight grip around him on either side, in comparison, they were angels dragging him along through clouds. He slightly repositioned his arms so that he could pull his hands into eyesight - it was like he was seeing his own hands for the first time.

His forearms were wrapped in layers of pinned gauze, leaving not a single inch of skin visible.

_When…?_

His range of motion wasn’t free enough for him to reach toward his face quite yet, but when he specifically focused on it, he could feel something attached to his face on both cheeks. Yuuki could also feel a similar patch on his neck when he moved it (just barely - it was so stiff and rolling it was close to impossible), but there was absolutely no recollection of how he acquired any of this.

_Did they move me in my sleep, or is my brain just… fried?_

He was a walking mummy, spirit recently awoken in the underworld with only the disgusting, rotten clothes on his back.

After a minute or so, the movement around him stopped, and the guarding pulling him along by the strings ushered him into an austere, artificially-lit white room with a table, rolling chair, and a small, square window. A stoic gaze peered down at him - it was an older man’s face, but not one of the few he could recall.

The man did not greet him, and his expression did not so much as twitch as the mummy crawled out of his tomb and into the light, reaching shakily for the chair to steady himself. Two sheets of paper were spread side by side across the oak.

Before Yuuki had a chance to ask a single question knocking on his mind, he was promptly silenced by interruption.

“The first form is a confidentiality agreement. The second is a release form.”  
  
_A release form._

“You’ll be released and all charges will be dropped on the condition that you never speak publicly about anything that happened here. Is that clear?”

It wasn’t clear. Nothing was really clear; his mind was like those walks to school in the rare April fog, but he had to devise some sort of answer. He managed to make sense of ‘release form’ - so something worked. He had no idea in what way, or how, but it worked.

“You’ve already been medically cleared.”

_If only I was mentally cleared._

Nodding only brought him waves of hurt, so he settled on a meek ‘okay’.

Yuuki tentatively settled into the chair, hand furiously shaking as he tried to adjust the pen between his fingers. _Where... do I sign? Where…_

Unconsciously, his hand trailed to each of the blank spaces and scribbled out something resembling his full name. It wasn’t as though this paper was anything legally binding when signed by him, so this _had_ to be some sort of intimidation tactic. _Anything to keep pristine while they think they’re above the law, I guess._

“Wait here. You’re being provided an escort.”

 

* * *

_I can’t believe it actually worked._

The sight of a tattered boy, which others might find pitiful, rested his neck against the backseat of a police cruiser with a discreet smile. He was constantly drifting in and out of pain, wanting to peel away the shell that some medic has created on his unconscious self, but for now all he actually mustered with his little energy was the gloating inside.

_I can’t believe my plan actually worked. It was a snowball’s chance in hell, but it seriously worked... Thank God._

Watching the scenery of Shibuya pass by gave him the kind of nostalgia that only adults felt, desperately clinging to baubles of the past. With a careful hand, he rolled down the window, letting the soft breeze brush along the few bits of bare skin above his neck. He closed his eyes, training his ears toward the sounds of Shibuya as his escort rounded into an intersection.

“We also received information that the young man was placed on probation for assault…”

The omnipresent, mechanical voice of a news reporter jolted him out of his relaxed trance. A shot of adrenaline ran through his stomach like a freight train. Details were nothing but a smear in the distance as he froze in place, unable to comprehend anything but panic.

_No. That’s- that’s impossible. There’s no way. He had to have known about Akechi, it had to have gotten through to him. It had to have, I can’t have messed this up, too…!_

_Akira -_

“... has committed suicide. The police have confirmed his death, although details have not been released. To repeat…”

 

* * *

The moment his front door creaked open, all feigned calm disappeared and Yuuki flashed up the stairs, disregarding the lack of concern in the empty house. For a split second, he wondered if his parents even realized he had been gone, to which his brain responded with a stern, resounding ‘no’ and refocused all in the span of a sigh.

The familiarity of his bedroom was gone, leaving it a distant land. The flood of his experience and his denial hit him hard and suddenly when he paused in the opening, and everything began spinning.

Pain and suffering be damned, though, he was going to find his phone.

Entire body trembling as he forced it forward, his hands clawed through a drawer to the bottom left of his desk, limbs locking up and then releasing his tension when his fingers smoothed across cold, slightly-cracked glass. Latching onto it with purpose, he opened up his lock screen to a sea of site-related notifications, but bypassed them all to feverishly pad through his contacts. He pressed one of them, completely ignoring the one he more _desperately_ wanted to go to.

It echoed past the decomposed phrases in his head, in time with the ringing of the connection.

_Kurusu-kun..._

_Kurusu-kun..._

_Akira -_

“Sakamoto-kun, where are you?”

“Holy shit, Mishima, is that you? You sound awful, dude, are you okay?”  
  
“I’m- I’m heading to Leblanc. Can you guys be there? Soon?”

There was a second of hesitation on the other end. Yuuki’s peripherals snagged a glimpse out the window of the police car disappearing into the backdrop.

“Yeah. No problem, man.”

* * *

 

It was hard for anyone to look Yuuki in the eye at first, and it made his already inflamed nerves even more sensitive.

Haru sat beside Yuuki on the couch, pulling various objects and bottles out of an extensive first-aid kit, while the rest of the Thieves ( _minus Futaba_ ) stood awkwardly scattered around the attic without their core member to form a solid line.

“Is it okay if I remove these, Mishima-kun?” Haru murmured, her hand motioning toward his bound arms laying limply over his thighs. Her voice was somber, but in a calm way, like the lull back to sleep after a nightmare. Yuuki nodded once, and gently her fingers undid the pins and began unwrapping the gauze.

Ryuji was abnormally quiet, and it was clearly irking him. He was practically tapping a hole in the floorboards, becoming so fed up with the lack of conversation that he interjected himself, leaving his spot near the window to approach Yuuki with a conflicted look.

“Dude, why the hell did you lie like that? You should’ve never gotten hurt like this because of us. You should’ve never gotten hurt like this, _period_.”

The tone wasn’t accusatory, but … _hurt._

Yuuki took a steady breath through his nose as he prepared to speak, but his eyes betrayed his voice when they saw the stains on his arms, splashed in such vivid blues and greens and purples and _reds_ that he could barely recall the color of his own skin. It made Haru pause before she hurriedly reached for her own roll of bandages to remove the horrid sight from his view.

“I’m not- I’m not worried about any of this. I want to know about Kurusu-kun. You still haven’t explained that to me.” The words he managed were forced out, wavering through the strain on his vocal chords.

“It’s part of our plan, Mishima-kun. As long as it works, he’s going to be okay,” Makoto reassured, shifting her arms to rest both of her hands on her elbows. Her attention seemed to be elsewhere, unwilling to look at the damage, but Yuuki had nothing in him to feel anything but passive.

“But what if-”

“Look, we can’t really explain it easily or anything, but you believe in us, right? Well, we believe in him. He’s not dead. Okay? So forget everything you heard.”

Ryuji was the only one who seemed comfortable, yet uncomfortable enough to hold a conversation with Yuuki. From the way his pupils failed to focus anywhere, it was obvious that so much was on his mind that he needed to convince himself along with the boy across from him.

“...Okay.”

The quick and painless compliance to just blindly believe surprised him, but it still seemed to settle Ryuji down, letting him steady himself. He leaned against the wall, staring down at Yuuki who watched absentmindedly as Haru once again mummified his arms.

“Okay. So, what made you pull something like that without telling anybody? And, how did you even get them to let you out? Did they just- give up on you or something?”

“... I had a plan. I only told Kurusu-kun about it. I found out about the ambush while I was there, too, and I tried to tell him- subconsciously, or something.”

“Wait, subconsciously? Like...” Ann crossed her arms, coming up along Ryuji’s side. “How did you know any of that was going to work?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t, I guess. I just knew that it would work. I tried to research, and I tried to cover my bases as best I could.”

Whatever breath Ryuji had started holding came rushing out in a long-winded sigh. He crouched down, letting himself be at eye-level with Yuuki.

“We were super freaking worried about you, especially when we knew we couldn’t do anything right away. It was really stupid, you know that? Really stupid, but it was brave, too.”

Yuuki’s lips parted, but there was no way for him to find any words in that hellscape he called a vocabulary.

_Brave. I was brave._

“You’re a hell of a guy, Mishima. You’re strong, but you’re important to us, so next time, you gotta remember that. Seeing you hurt like this really sucks. You didn’t deserve to go through this.”

_I didn’t…_

A familiar swell of pain grew in the back of Yuuki’s throat, and he clutched the legs of his pants as though that might help him fight back tears. He could feel his eyes grow glassy and his face grew warmer, prompting Ryuji into a burst of panic that he’d said something wrong.

“Hey, dude, it’s okay. Look, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s fine. I just… I just really need a shower.”

A painful smile broke out across his battered face, so breathtakingly overwhelmed by the show of concern. When his eyes refocused past the burning, the rest of the Thieves were gathered around close to the couch, expressions mildly relieved to see that their manager had come out of his ordeal with a heart still in one piece.

“Oh, yeah, uh, I didn’t know how to tell you, but you smell like ass.”

For a moment, the fear of persecution faded, and Yuuki laughed a laugh like broken glass.

_You were right… I need to have faith in them, too._


	6. pieces of artwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! i know i said in my last chapter it'd only be a few days, but it ended up being a few weeks, oops? i had some things come up, and i was at a con recently, so that sapped my time and energy!
> 
> here it is though, the chapter that'll probably make the pegoshima shipper hearts melt. 
> 
> also, i'm thinking that the next chapter will be the last, just to wrap up the ends of the plot and also to hand out some smiles. thanks as always for the comments and support, guys! ♥

Yuuki waited by the phone in an empty house.

After the positivity and reassurance that the others had given him, Yuuki wanted only to be true to their faith and believe that good would conquer evil and that his best friend would return as he knew him, with silent understanding and sturdy heart.

That was always unrealistic, though. Anxiety had a tendency of sneaking in through the slightest cracks, of which Yuuki was covered, from the gaps in his brave façade to the literal gashes in his skin.

The impatience and worry manifested in checking his phone every few minutes, even though he knew no one had called or responded to his text. His nails were practically receding, and he’d gnawed his bottom lip until the split already present in it blended in with the raw flesh. He laid on his bed for hours on end. 

He wondered endlessly if everything he’d done was futile. Maybe it was only his wish to be some sort of clueless martyr for the better of everyone else, and the ache in his bones constantly reminded him that he had put himself in a situation much like one he’d already known.

_ Do you remember the last time you looked like this, and you sat here alone, feeling like an idiot for taking it? _

Now, for the first time, his brain seemed to want to be encouraging all on its own.

_ This was different. People care about you. You’re part of something bigger this time. You need to know one thing, Yuuki - you aren’t to blame for this, and you were never to blame for what happened to you before. _

_ You heard Sakamoto-kun. You’re brave as hell. _

Able to temporarily settle the cacophony going on inside his head, Yuuki unlocked his phone and padded to his texts, which brought up his recent history.

At the top sat a simple text. 

> **Please text back to let me know you’re okay.**

He opened up the full conversation, staring emptily at his own words. It wasn’t as if he expected any change, but there was some unforeseen solace that came with reading his own concerns in text, knowing that somewhere out there, they could be seen. For the calm it brought him, however, with it returned the intrusivity of his thoughts.

_ Even if I was brave, I don’t give a damn unless he’s - _

His body jolted forward, curling the phone into his fingers. His breath was trapped inside his cage of a chest, and like a passing tumbleweed, the clouds of words in his head vanished.

The typing bubble floated up, ellipses dancing across the screen for what felt like an eternity in a matter of seconds.

> **I’m okay.**

Yuuki’s smile glistened against the horrid backdrop it was a part of. Short laughs of disbelief escaped, and his fingers froze in place as the response he wanted to give fled from his mind. Before he could catch them, the bubble returned to the screen, and he impatiently watched it bob around until more text formed.

> **Can you come to Leblanc? No one else is here, and I want to talk, just you and me.**

Something about the request caught Yuuki off guard - aside from the fact that it was likely the longest text that Akira had ever sent him.

Still, there was no hesitation as his fingers swept sloppily over the screen, wishing to give Akira an answer as soon as possible, as though it would be some sort of necessary reassurance.

> **Sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can.**

Without any preparation, Yuuki yanked his track jacket from the floor and shoved his phone into his sweatpants, hurrying through the poorly-lit house toward the front door. He paused a moment to look behind him before heading into the chilly evening, murmuring a “be back soon” while knowing there would be no response.

 

* * *

Yuuki only got one knock in before the door to Leblanc swung open, causing him to flinch from the shock. The lights inside the café were dim, so much so that he could barely make out Akira’s face, tentatively emerging from behind his wooden barricade. His glasses were clearly not present, but the rest of him was covered in heavy shadow.

“Hey… It’s good to see you’re okay, Mishima-kun."

Something that had been tightly wound within the worst dregs of Mishima’s emotions suddenly unraveled at the words. His lips curled inward as he tried to fight with its unwinding, but after all that had been endured, there wasn’t much more bottling he could manage. Yuuki launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Akira and holding him there with pure tenacity.

“Shut up. Stop- stop doing that, okay?”

Hearing the unusual harshness of Mishima’s voice stopped him cold. Akira would have sewn his lips closed given the opportunity, but the question yanked itself out of his chest.

“Stop doing what?”

“Don’t say that like it only matters that  _ I’m _ okay! I’m- I’m just grateful you’re even  _ alive _ right now, so saying that is-”

His arms squeezed tighter around Akira’s shoulders, who stood in a daze as Yuuki buried his face into the crook of his neck. Warmth flushed vaguely through Akira’s body, but the most prominent and immediate feeling was _ pain _ \- Akira let out a small grunt accompanied with a wince, but he didn’t make any move to remove him.

“Hey… It’s cold out here. Come inside.”

There was a great pause and a clear show of hesitance from Yuuki, as if somehow traces of Akira would scatter to the wind if he didn’t cling to their tangibility. He carefully peeled himself away, rubbing away the moisture accumulating in his eyes with the back of his sleeve as he stepped through the opening. The room, silently sleeping, still retained the vague scent of morning coffee and aromatic spices.

Akira didn’t look back toward him as he walked toward the attic stairs, but Yuuki still noticed two things: Akira was holding his arm, and his attention was aimed at his own feet.

It was a familiar shuffle to him; Yuuki had bored the same image of his green sneakers into his memory, because it was far better than catching the eyes of those around him, looking at his open scars with false pity before moving along the current.

Emerging into the significantly brighter (yet still low) light, Yuuki immediately felt a cool breeze rolling from the window brush past his face. The space was somehow soothing, and remembering the few times he’d been here brought some sort of peace to his frantic sense of nothingness.

Akira continued toward his bed even as Yuuki paused in the midst of his recollection. He turned himself around and gently lowered himself onto the bed, drawing Yuuki’s attention back to him.

Only now with the light against it could Yuuki make out the sunken features of Akira's face. The visible skin was peppered with blotches of different colors, and the expression that accompanied the horrid artwork was somber and swollen. Akira was a painting, just like he was, telling a story of loss and perseverance.

A hard lump formed in his throat, leaving Akira as the first one to speak.

“... I knew if we didn’t meet in person, you might keep worrying.” His face warped so quickly into something apologetic, which was so unfitting and … unsettling. “Come sit over here.”

Yuuki, unable to really formulate much in the way of words, simply followed the request and placed himself beside Akira on the bed. His eyes grazed the floorboards, before he realized his own hypocrisy -  _ don’t look away from the bad happening around you _ \- and brought himself back to staring at his best friend.

“I- I wish I could have warned you better. I tried, but I had no idea how-”

“Mishima-kun, don’t look down on yourself. I heard you loud and clear.”

“Wait, what?”

“I got your warning. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you personally. I didn’t want to freak you out, but there wasn’t much else I could do.” The smile he offered was weak, his muscles clearly straining. “We both had our secrets to keep, I guess.”

Something bubbled deep within his gut, but Yuuki knew whatever it was, it was unreasonable. He couldn’t be mad at Akira, not when Akira had saved him, all while knowing the inevitable suffering that was slowly creeping up behind him.

“Mishima-kun… I’m not going to reprimand you or anything. It’s just that- I was worried that something awful might happen. Something awful  _ did _ happen. You shouldn’t be throwing yourself on the line for our sake. You’re really important-”

“And you aren’t? What does that mean?”

It all tumbled from his mouth and pitifully rolled around by his feet, unable to be drawn back in, engulfing the atmosphere like high tide.

“You’ve been throwing yourselves on the line for  _ months _ , and you - you just keep letting unfair things happen to you, then act like it’s not allowed to phase you, but clearly it  _ does! _ I keep looking at you and- and- look at us, Akira-kun. We’re both just in high school, this shouldn’t be happening to  _ any _ of us! Just because you’re the hero and I’m not- it doesn’t mean you’re supposed to end up looking like this instead!”

Akira’s eyes, not hidden by their regular disguise, were round and bewildered. For once, Yuuki felt like he was staring into a mirror, like he could reach out and find only a replica of himself.

“You’ve never called me by my given name before.”

His mouth hung slightly open, breathing in sharply to let out a shaky chuckle. Akira propped his elbows against his knees, and the pressure on his shoulders made them start to tremble.

“You’ve really changed a lot, huh?”

_ Those who make a great change are usually the last to notice. _ It was like some bullshit motivational poster, except it was completely true in all respects. Yuuki didn’t know how to accept the statement. 

_ Is this a compliment? For better or worse? _

“Still, I… I just can’t…”

Akira shifted to hide himself behind his massive crop of black hair, unwilling to reveal just what he was - a normal teenager with a history of locked doors and bottled emotions.

“I can’t watch other people be hurt. I don’t care if it’s me. I’m used to this.”

Yuuki’s thoughts swam at a dizzying, almost visible pace.

_ At least if this is happening to someone, it’s happening to somebody who stopped being bothered a long time ago. _

They were the same words he’d used to justify enduring the torture, the same words he’d let fill his body like morphine.

Yuuki let his instinct move his body, carefully wrapping his arms around Akira once more. He didn’t know if he would make Akira uncomfortable for not minding his space, and he could worry about it endlessly, but it felt -  _ right _ \- like  _ this _ was the right thing to do.

Akira hugged him back, burying his face into Yuuki’s shoulder.

“... Just because you’re a leader doesn’t mean you have to carry things by yourself. This, I’m- I’m gonna carry this with you. Trust me … okay?”

There wasn’t any sort of affirmative response, only a small noise that rose from Akira’s throat, muffled by the sleeve of Yuuki’s jacket. His head turned, his face just inches from the side of Yuuki’s neck.

“... I was scared.”

Yuuki, sensing the familiar tension building within Akira, placed a hand in his tangled mess of hair, stroking tentatively up and down.

“Yeah- Yeah, I was, too. It’s okay. You can be brave for everyone else, but I’m gonna listen. I’m here with you.”

“You’ll miss the last train.”  
  
“Believe me, I’d much rather be here helping you than at my house doing the opposite.”

“... Thank you, Yuuki-kun.”

The attic fell into silence, with only the sound of the wind rushing past the two lone pieces of artwork in the gallery. Yuuki let Akira stay leaned against him for an immeasurable amount of time as his heart beat in a dull, heavy rhythm.

“Are you still in pain?”

Again, there weren’t any words - only a small, vertical movement of Akira’s head that signified a ‘yes’.

“Okay. Let me see where Okumura-san put that first-aid kit... I don’t like to brag, but I think I’m pretty good at it.”


End file.
